


Grimoire

by Whedonista93



Series: Spooky Season 2020 [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BAMF Hermione Granger, Bittersweet, Blood Magic, Character Death Fix-It, F/M, Fix-It, Fred Weasley Dies, Fred Weasley Lives, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Recovery, Weasley Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:54:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26853286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whedonista93/pseuds/Whedonista93
Summary: He's only mostly dead... normal magic won't bring him back.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Fred Weasley
Series: Spooky Season 2020 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1958881
Comments: 28
Kudos: 224





	Grimoire

She finds it in Belatrix’ vault, when they’re going after the cup. It’s a book, one that just barely catches her eye, but something about it draws her, and she manages to snag it and shove it in her bag amidst the chaos. In the madness of their escape, she forgets about it for a few days. When she remembers… she waits until Harry and Ron are asleep, then pulls the book from her bag and examines it by the light of a silently cast _lumos_.

The breath flees from her lungs when she realizes it’s an honest-to-Merlin Grimoire. The spells in a book like this… the like wouldn’t even be found in the Restricted Section at Hogwarts. Hermione doesn’t sleep that night - she reads the Grimoire cover to cover.

* * *

When it’s all said and done, and their trio walks into the Great Hall - alive, all miraculously alive - Hermione almost can’t believe it. She smiles at Harry and Ron when she sees the same disbelief shining in their eyes. Then she sees Fred on the ground, not moving, not breathing, and she blacks out. 

She comes to some time later, laid out on a bench near the Weasley family. Harry is nowhere in sight. Most of the Weasley’s are crowded around Fred’s body. Ginny is sitting on the bench with Hermione’s head in her lap, stroking Hermione’s wild hair gently. Hermione sits up gingerly.

“You alright?” Ginny asks quietly.

Hermione shrugs, unable to take her eyes off Fred’s body. “I… Merlin, how am I supposed to even answer that right now?”

Ginny scoffs. “I don’t think anyone knows.”

Hermione looks at her friend, feels the desperation rising. “F-” she feels as if she’s choking on his name. “I… he can’t-”

Ginny reaches over and takes her hand. “I know,” the redhead agrees quietly. “It doesn’t seem real.”

Hermione muffles a sob with her free hand. “I should be comforting you right now. Not the other way around.”

Ginny shrugs. “I don’t mind. It makes me feel useful.” She leans her head against Hermione’s shoulder, eyes still on Fred. “Did he know? That you…”

Hermione considers playing dumb, but she’s fairly certain Ginny will hex her if she tries. “No, I don’t think he knew. I’m fairly certain he thought I was with Ron… or at least going to end up with Ron.”

“Doesn’t everyone think so?”

Hermione lifts her shoulder noncommittally. “We almost kissed. During the battle…”

“You and Fred or you and Ron?”

Hermione’s lips twist wryly. “Ron.”

“Why just almost?”

Hermione’s lips twist further, and she closes her eyes. “We bonked heads, then actually looked at each other and… well, honestly just agreed we’d be mad to try being together like that.”

Ginny huffs. “Good. But now… Merlin, you and Fred could have been so great! That spark between you… it was mesmerizing, you know? The bond you could have had.”

Something flares to life in Hermione’s memory, and she straightens up so fast, she dislodges Ginny from her side. She bites her lip and glances around the Great Hall - so many bodies. This could be akin to looking for a needle in a haystack, but she has to try. She takes a deep breath and mutters an incantation to reveal restless spirits. Almost as if he’s waiting for her to do just that, Fred’s soul hovers, bright and alive, over his prone form. There are other souls around, but none so bright, most are faded, already most of the way to moving on. Fred’s… Hermione gasps as she comes back to herself.

“When the hell, Hermione?” Ginny demands. “Are you okay?”

Hermione exhales a shaky breath. “Ginny, I need your help.”

“Anything, you know that.”

Hermione bites her lip, then casts a subtle _muffliato_.

Ginny raises a brow.

“He’s not gone, Gin. Not completely.”

“Hermione, you’re not making any sense.”

“Fr-” She chokes on his name again and curses. “Shit! He’s only… mostly dead,” Hermione explains.

Ginny tries to shoot to her feet.

Hermione tugs her back down. “ _Listen_ to me! Normal magic, normal healing, it won’t bring him back. He _is_ essentially dead.”

Ginny tilts her head. “But you know something?”

Hermione glances at Fred’s body again. “It’s risky. I can’t promise it will work.”

Understanding starts dawning on Ginny’s face. The redhead glances at her family. “You don’t want to get their hopes up.”

Hermione shakes her head. “I can’t do that to them… but Gin, I have to _try_ , for him, and I need your help. I can’t try it here.”

Ginny nods slowly. “I have an idea, but… we’ll have to tell George.”

Hermione winces. “What if I’m wrong?”

Ginny reaches out and grasps her shoulders. “Then at least we’ll have tried everything. George will know that and appreciate it.”

Hermione closes her eyes briefly, considering, and finally offers a curt nod before lifting the silencing spell.

Ginny stands and walks over to her family, bending to whisper in George’s ear, then slumps down beside him, leaning into his side. As if on queue, Molly’s head starts to bob.

“Mum, you should go,” Ginny suggests quietly. “Rest… all of you should.”

Molly shakes her head fiercely. “And leave my boy…”

George glances at Hermione, question in his eyes.

Hermione shrugs and offers a tentative nod.

George nods, and turns back to his mother. “Go, Mum. Take… everyone. I… I can do this. I _need_ to do this.”

Molly’s eyes fill with tears. “George, this is not a thing to do alone. We-”

“-need to go home,” George says firmly.

“I can’t leave you alone with h-”

Hermione stands and shuffle up behind George. “I’ll stay with him.”

Molly frowns. “Oh Hermione, dear, he-”

“It’ll be fine, Mrs. Weasley. Please go get some rest.”

Eventually, Molly agrees and herds her family out.

George looks at her levelly. “What Ginny said was right?”

Hermione shrugs. “I won’t know until I try. We need to take him somewhere private.”

“Our flat, in Diagon?” George suggests.

Hermione nods. “You take him, carefully. I’ll meet you there soon. I have to get a few things.”

Ron and Harry appear at her shoulders as George Apparates away with Fred’s body.

“What-” Ron starts forward.

Hermione cuts him off with a gentle hand on his chest. “He wants to bury him in peace, Ron.”

Ron’s head drops.

Hermione’s hand drifts over to squeeze his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“I sent the Weasley’s over to Grimmauld place,” Harry says quietly. “We’re heading over now. If you…”

Hermione smiles weakly. “I’ll meet you there later. I… I need some time to collect myself.”

Harry nods in understanding. “Whenever you’re ready.” He turns the Ron. “Ready, mate?”

Ron nods absently, and a moment later, they both Apparate away.

Hermione makes her way out of the Great Hall and picks her way through the rubble and down into the dungeons. It takes her a whole to wind her way through the destruction to Snape’s chambers, but eventually she finds them, mostly intact. Thankfully, his herb and potions closet is wholly intact. Her initial plan had been to take only what she needed for the spell she has in mind, but upon closer inspection of the closet’s contents, she _accios_ a chest and carefully spells the entire closet’s contents into it before closing and shrinking it, slipping it securely into her bag. That done, she closes her eyes and Apparates to George and Fred’s flat.

Fred is laid out on a mattress in front of the fireplace in the living room. George looks up at her warily. “Hermione, Merlin knows I don’t want him to be, but he’s dead.”

Hermione nods. “I know.”

“Then why?”

“Because I can bring him back,” she answers honestly. Hermione closes her eyes, and breathes out on a shaky exhale, then digs the Grimoire out of her bag. She quickly finds the spell she has in mind, then offers the book to George.

George glances over it, then turns wide-eyes on Hermione. He opens and closes his mouth several times before he grins. “This is blood magic…” George shakes his head ruefully. “I told the git you loved him.”

Hermione laughs wetly. 

“You sure about this?”

Hermione shrugs and swipes away the wetness on her face. “I have to, George. I can’t… I can’t not at least try.” She bites her lip. “Do you think it will work? Will he be angry with me if it does?”

George stands. He stops right in front of Hermione and gently cups her cheeks. “For the brightest witch of your age, you can be awfully dull, Granger.”

Hermione scrunches her forehead in abject confusion.

George rolls his eyes. “The tosser has been absolutely gone on you for years, luv.”

Hermione blinks away a fresh wave of tears. “Oh.”

“Do you have everything you need to do it?”

Hermione nods

George sighs. “I can’t be here for this, can I?”

Hermione shakes her head.

George drops a kiss to her forehead and steps back. “Be careful.”

“I’ll set wards as soon as you’re gone.”

George nods. “I won’t try to come back until I hear from you. You’ll let me…”

Hermione nods. “I’ll let you know, one way or another, as soon as it’s done.”

George nods, and Apparates away.

Hermione takes a moment to collect herself, then sets as many wards as she can think of. She manages to unearth a few protein bars from her bag, and scarfs them down, hoping they’ll provide enough energy to focus through this. She cannot afford to falter.

She calls the chest of Snape’s stores from her bag, closes the floo, and sets a cauldron over her fire. She meticulously measures every ingredient, then pours the completed potion into a bowl to cool to a drinkable temperature.

As it cools, she finally allows her attention to drift to Fred. He’s smiling, she notes idly, as if he was just starting to laugh. Hermione heart clenches and she finds herself feeling grateful that if this was truly meant to be his end, he died laughing. She brushes his hair away from his forehead, then rests her hand on his cool cheek, and allows herself to simply take him in for several minutes, as she never allowed herself to do so blatantly before. She knows she’s too serious, too bookish, more often than not, but Fred made her laugh. George too, certainly, but there was something different about Fred. She shakes the thoughts from her head, and turns to check the potion. Perfect.

Hermione braces herself, then pricks her finger over the mix. She lets precisely two drops of blood fall into it, before turning and doing the same with Fred’s hand. She mixes the potion carefully, then sets it to the side of the mattress before climbing up and situating herself near Fred’s head. She lifts him into a vaguely upright position, and forces his mouth open. She lifts the bowl to his lips, and pours half the mixture down his throat, then lays him back down. She swallows the rest of the vile potion herself, then stretches out next to him and reaches across her own torso to entwine the fingers of their left hands.

“Please don’t let him hate me for this,” she prays to whatever deities might be listening, then she begins the incantation.

* * *

“This is archaic,” Hermione spits venomously, tossing _The Daily Prophet_ on the dining room table at Grimmauld place. “I mean, a marriage law, really?”

Molly grimaces. “It’s how things have always been done. It keeps magic in the world.”

“So does witches and wizards marrying whoever they bloody well please!” Hermione snarls.

On the other side of the table, George has his fist shoved in his mouth to contain his laughter. Hermione glares at him. His eyes continue to shine at her, still full of mirth.

“The war hasn’t even been over a year,” Hermione continues, less angry, but just as convicted. “We should let the world have time to heal.”

Molly pats her shoulder sympathetically. “I know dear. It’s better than times past, though.”

“How?” Hermione challenges.

“It’s not a lottery, for one,” Molly explains. “Everyone has a choice in who they marry. For another, there’s a reasonable amount of time - six months is plenty of time to fall in love.”

Hermione runs her hand through already wild hair.

“And there’s spells that help,” Molly offers.

Hermione drops her hands. “Spells?”

Molly smiles softly. “Yes, dear, spells. To help find who you’re most compatible with.”

“Oh, come on, Hermione,” Ginny needles. “Every second year’s tried it at least once.”

Hermione raises her chin. “I had far less frivolous things to concern myself with.”

At the other end of the table, Harry and Ron howl with laughter.

“Gits,” she mutters under her breath.

Molly smiles sympathetically. “Watch, dear.” Molly pulls out a piece of parchment. The Weasley matron mutters a simple charm, and the alphabet appears at the top of the page, repeated several times over. She casts another simple charm, and letters from the top of the page fall toward the bottom of the page, deftly rearranging themselves until they spell out _Arthur Weasley_.

Hermione can’t help but smile. “That’s sweet, but you've been married to him for how many years? I would certainly hope you’re compatible.”

“Shun the nonbeliever!” George calls out.

Hermione rolls her eyes and tosses a dish rag at his head.

“Oh, try it!” Ginny needles.

Before anyone else can join in, a Ministry owl taps on the window.

Harry retrieves the parment attached to it’s leg, offers it a treat, then unfurls the message. He rolls his eyes. “It’s a list of possible compatible matches for the household.” He frowns. “Hermione, your name isn’t on the list.”

Hermione grimaces. “Well, am I really part of the household?”

Harry shrugs. “Dunno, honestly. Everyone’s so often in and out.”

Hermione’s expression softens. “I know.”

Harry shrugs back, and absently continues flipping through the pages the Ministry sent. His frown returns when he gets to the final page. “Uh, Mione?”

“Hmm?”

“You _are_ considered part of the household, only, they’ve got it listed that you’re already married.”

“To who?” Ron demands.

Harry’s frown deepens. “Name’s all smudged. They made a mistake, right?” He glances up.

Hermions shrugs. “We’ll get it sorted.”

“‘Course,” Harry agrees. A tense silence follows.

Ginny has her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “I still think Hermione should try the charm.”

George grins. “Me too.”

“You’re both prats,” Hermione informs them, feeling a bit petty.

Molly chuckles and nudges her toward the parchment. “Go on, dearie, what can it hurt?”

Hermione - and Ginny and George, the tossers - knows damn well what name is going to appear on the parchment, and Hermione isn’t certain this is the best way of going about making that particular announcement. She sighs and meets George’s eyes. His expression softens, but he offers a firm nod. She glances to Ginny, and gets a similar reaction. Silent reassurances that they’ll stand by her.

_Merlin, this is going to end badly,_ she thinks. “Fine. But you’re both still prats.” She sighs again, and repeats the simple charm Molly has incanted earlier. Sure enough, _Fred Weasley_ dances across the bottom of the page.

Molly gasps, hands rising to cover her mouth. “Oh, Merlin. My sweet girl, I… oh, I am _so_ sorry, it’s not supposed to work like that. I’ve never seen… I am sorry.” She shakes her head, tears spilling from her name.

Hermione strides forward and takes Molly’s hands. “No. Don’t apologize. I’m the one who owes you an apology. It… I…”

“Whose bloody name is it?” Ron demands when Hermione trails off, snatching the parchment up. “Fred?! What the hell?”

“Hermione?” Harry asks.

Hermoine blows out a breath, very slowly, then turns away and barrels into George.

George nods in her hair, whispers into her ear, “It’s time, luv.”

Hermione blinks away her own tears. “He’s still so weak…”

She feels him smile against her head. “We’ll be gentle.”

She takes a deep breath, and steps back, steeling herself.

George smiles. “There’s that Gryffindor courage.”

Hermione turns to the room - it’s rather full, despite only a select few having been participating in the conversation - Harry and Ron at the far end of the table, Ginny and George toward the middle, Arthur is at the head of the table, with Molly now at his back and Percy at his elbow. Bill and Fluer are leaned against the far wall, and Charlie is perched on the counter, idly kicking his boots off the cabinets. Everyone’s eyes are on her now. She takes a deep breath. “I need you all to promise me something. Don’t ask me how. I will tell you what I am willing, but do not ask me for more than that.”

“Hermione, what’s going on?” Harry asks.

“ _Promise_ ,” Hermione demands.

Everyone glances around the room at one another.

It’s Arthur who nods. “We promise.”

Hermione nods. “Everyone just, uh… stay put.”

She opens the beaded bag at her waist - still everpresent, even now that the war is over - and calls out a simple wooden chest. She sets it on the ground, as far away from everyone as she can get, and silently starts disarming the wards around it. She opens the lid and glances down, unable to stop the small smile on her lips. She’d gotten the idea from Newt Scamander’s biography. He never did explain how he’d created his charmed case, but through trial and error, Hermione eventually figured it out, and it’s worked rather brilliantly.

“Do you need help?” George asks quietly.

Hermione closes her eyes. “Probably,” she admits.

A moment later, she feels his comforting, steady presence behind her. She steps into the chest, and he follows, closing the lid behind him. Unlike Newt Sacamander’s case, Hermione’s is a fully functional flat, complete with a little outdoor garden. George stops at the end of the ladder. Hermione shoots a grateful smile his way, then wanders further in. She finds Fred in the garden, dozing on a chaise under the artificial sunlight. She smiles softly and carefully perches next to him, reaching up to brush his hair out of his eyes. His lids flutter, but he doesn’t open them.

“I know, I need a haircut,” he mumbles.

Hermione’s smile grows. “I don’t know. I quite like it.”

Fred’s lips twitch. “Whatever you like, my love.”

Hermione leans forward and brushes a kiss across his brow. “I like you.”

He finally opens his eyes. “Thought you weren’t going to be back until tonight.”

Hermione bites her lip. “We’re still at Grimmauld Place.”

Fred frowns. “And you’re risking coming in? Is the world ending?”

Hermione’s lips twitch. “It’s time, I think. If you’re up for it.”

Fred’s expression shutters. “I… I… shite, Hermione, I don’t know.” He lurches forward, burying his face in her neck. “I don’t know.”

Hermione wraps her arms around him tightly. “Only if you’re ready.”

Fred shudders against her. “No, you’re right. It’s… it’s been… it’s time.” He pulls back. “I’ll, uh… I need help,” he admits, barely above a whisper.

Hermione smiles sadly. “I know.”

Fred stands on his own, then Hermione tucks herself under his arm and leads him into their room, and helps him into proper clothes - trousers and boots and a soft sweater - then gently combs his hair back and ties it into a short tail at the nape of his neck.

He tugs her around in front of him and wraps his arms around her waist, then drops his head to her chest. “They’re gonna be pissed.”

Hermione rubs her hands over his shoulders. “They’ll get over it.”

He pulls back and looks up at her. “You telling yourself or me?”

Hermione shrugs. “Both?”

Fred laughs and gently guides her face down.

She presses her lips to his readily, softly, sweetly.

Fred smiles against her mouth. “Now I can face the world.”

Hermione laughs delightedly and pulse back. “Let’s get to it, then.”

She tucks herself back under his arm and leads him toward the ladder, stepping aside for him to embrace George. Hermoine will forever be grateful to Ginny for insisting on George’s involvement - she doesn’t think Fred would have made it as far as he has without his brother’s presence.

George clasps Fred’s shoulder. “Ready, Gred?”

Fred smiles warmly. “Ready, Forge.”

“Right, Mione, you up first. I’ll bring up the rear in case the git falls.”

Hermione smiles gratefully, kisses Fred one last time, then climbs the ladder. She hears Fred following, slowly, and George’s gentle murmurs of encouragement. She waits until she feels Fred’s gentle touch on her ankle to open the lid and climb out. She ignores everyone’s expectant looks, and gestures Ginny over. Ginny immediately situates herself on the other side of the chest. Together, they help Fred up and over the edge of the chest. Fred nearly collapses against Hermione, and Ginny steps aside to let George climb out. George slams the lid of the chest closed, and carefully manhandles Fred and Hermione into sitting on it, Fred still leaning heavily into Hermione’s side.

Molly’s watery gasp breaks the silence. “Fred?”

Fred turns his head enough to smile. The expression is weak, but it’s genuine. “Hey, Mum.”

Molly rushes forward.

Before Hermione can open her mouth to say anything, Ginny steps in her path. “Hold on.”

“What?” Molly demands, color rising in her cheeks. “You step out of my way this instant, young lady!”

“I will,” Ginny reassures gently. “But you have to be careful.”

“You think I’m going to hurt him?” Molly snarls.

Ginny shakes her head. “Not intentionally. But he’s still very, very weak, Mum.”

Molly’s expression softens.

Fred reaches out with the hand not wrapped around Hermione’s waist and tugs on the end of Ginny’s hair. “It’s alright, Gin.”

Ginny steps aside, and Molly approaches more cautiously. Fred lifts his head and Molly reaches out to cup his cheeks. “Oh, my boy. You… Fred, you were…”

“You were dead!” Ron exclaims, voice shaking.”

“Only mostly dead,” Hermione corrects. Hermione, Fred, and George are the only ones who know that Fred was well and truly _dead_ dead, and they’ve all agreed that’s for the best.

“I’ve seen that film,” Harry grins.

Hermione smiles back.

“You two knew, didn’t you?” Ron points accusingly at Ginny and George. “And Hermione! You…”

“You all let us think he was dead,” Bill accuses lowly.

Everyone starts shouting, then. Honestly, Hermione is a little shocked it took this long. From George and Ginny’s exasperated expressions, they agree. Fred pulls out of his mother’s gentle grasp and buries his face back in Hermione’s shoulder. To her credit, Molly notices, and has everyone silenced in moments.

“Explain,” the Weasley matriarch begs into the relative silence. “ _Please_.”

“You all remember when Hermione passed out, in the Great Hall, after the battle?” Ginny asks.

“Of course,” Molly answers. “Poor dear was exhausted.”

Ginny shakes her head. “She didn’t pass out ‘til she saw Fred.”

“When I came to,” Hermione picks up shakily. “I couldn’t take my eyes off him. _Something_ was nagging at me.” She frowns. “I still can’t name it, whatever it was, but I… I looked at him, at Fred, finally really looked at him, instead of just seeing his body and I realized he wasn’t completely gone.”

“She told me, because I was the one right there,” Ginny says.

“I didn’t know if I could actually save him,” Hermione’s voice cracks. “I knew I had to try. But I couldn’t tell you all, because what if I failed?”

“You didn’t want to get our hopes up,” Arthur realizes softly.

Hermione nods. “Ginny knew that George was the only one with a chance of getting him away from the rest of you.” She shrugs.

“But it worked!” Ron points out, still angry. “It’s been six bloody months and you didn’t tell us!”

Hermione closes her eyes.

“Look at him, you tosser!” Ginny fired back. “This is half a bloody year later, and he’s _still_ this weak! We still didn’t know if he was going to make it!” Ginny’s voice cracks, though with what emotion… Hermione can’t tell with the other girl’s back to her.

“The spell I used to bring him back,” Hermione explains, fighting to keep her voice level, “was volatile.”

“Even I couldn’t get near him the first couple months,” George offers.

“I couldn’t until two months ago,” Ginny adds.

“Couldn’t go near…” Percy starts the question, but trails off.

A curious expression crosses his face, and Bill draws his wand, casts something subtle that Hermione doesn’t quite catch. Something like wonder crosses his face. “I didn’t know that was possible.”

Hermione looks up sharply and meets his eyes and she knows, immediately, that the curse-breaker understands at least part of what she did.

“May I?” Bill asks.

Hermione nods hesitantly.

“I’ve only ever seen it as a curse before, but leave it to the brightest witch of her age to turn it into something good. The spell I know is only similar. One magic user casts it on another, and it basically siphons the victims magic to the caster.” Bill grins at her. “I don’t have the first clue what spell she actually used, but it shares some characteristics of that binding curse. The victim’s magical core, once it’s drained enough, will lash out, seeking other magic sources to replenish itself. But you, Hermione… you willingly gave him your magic, didn’t you?”

Hermione shrugs self-consciously. “I combined our magic, bound mine to his and his to mine in balance.”

Fred finally lifts his head again. “Only I was bloody well near dead, so I didn’t have any of my own. Still don’t really. So, yeah, she did.”

Hermione bites her lip. “In a manner. He _does_ still have his own magic, but it’s so tied up in trying to heal his body from the damage those curses did that it’s not really focused on anything else.”

“In other words,” Fred says, “I’d still be in a bloody coma if it wasn’t for this brilliant wench.”

Hermione blushes. 

Ron, finally seeming to have calmed a bit, waves between them. “And you two’re… er…”

Ginny rolls her eyes. “They trust each other enough to have bound their magic together. What do you think, pinhead?”

“A binding that powerful…” Bill shakes his head. “I don’t know of anything that would supersede it. It’s stronger than even the most archaic marriage bonds.”

“They’re a bloody sappy mess.” George agrees with a wide grin.

Fred grins. “Look at ‘er. Bloody brilliant thing. And pretty, too… why wouldn’t I be a sap over her?”

Hermione rolls her eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”

Fred’s grin spreads. “And you’re bloody well stuck with me.”

Hermione cracks and grins back. “I am.” She forces herself to look away from him, back toward his family. _Their_ family. “Well, come say hello! But be gentle, he’s still fragile.”

Fred grumbles in protest, but really has no ground to stand on. An hour later, he’s completely slumped over, head in Hermione’s lap, snoring lightly.

Harry looks at them thoughtfully. “It wasn’t just the nightmares, was it?”

“Hmm?” Hermione looks up at her friend.

“After the final battle… you’ve looked so bloody tired since then. When I asked… you said it was nightmares. I didn’t push, because you’ve been improving, but you still look bloody well spent most of the time.”

Hermione looks down at Fred. “There were nightmares… still are.”

“But it isn’t _just_ the nightmares. You’ve been keeping two bloody people alive all by force of will and magic.”

Hermione brushes a gentle finger down Fred’s cheek. “He’s worth it.”


End file.
